


Awe

by Grand_Duchess_Mars



Category: Lancer (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/F, Mild Blood, Oh A Knife, Rated M for My That's Intimate, Sexual Tension, What does reliable even mean anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 21:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20513924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grand_Duchess_Mars/pseuds/Grand_Duchess_Mars
Summary: In the aftermath of a hard fought battle, only two pilots are left breathing.





	Awe

Mm. Blood in my mouth. Warning lights flaring. Controls are unresponsive. Vision’s hazy. Viewscreen’s flickering; sensors must be damaged. C’mon, reboot. Reboot. Re-**boot**.

Ah, there we go. I can see the problem. Her lance is embedded in my Balor’s abdomen. That’s right; I’d slung my whip around the haft to try and snare it from her, but she turned my own momentum against me and sent me reeling into the dirt and mud. Hell of a move, that one—not at all surprising for a lancer of her caliber. Feels like I saw it once long ago…

Heh, look at the nanites that compose my whip flicker aimlessly in the breeze. See how they’re shifting from turquoise to base grey? They must feel so directionless without my will at the hilt. They’re kinda like a school of fish that have gotten so caught up in the glint of their scales in the sunlight that they didn’t realize they were swimming in circles. Yeah, I know that’s not how that works, but ain’t that what they look like?

Right, sorry. I’m here. Let’s see what the diagnostic has for me. Mm, doesn’t look like I’ve got enough power left to force a reconstitution, but I’ve still got basic functions, so that’s something. Legs are dark—must’ve pierced the hydraulics when she ran me through. Can’t move the arms either. Oh, wait. Left arm’s shuddering. Maybe if I just push the servos into overdrive I can—

Ah. My mech appears to be missing its hand. And its gun. And most of its armor. If I re-route some systems I might be able to force a mildly uncomfortable electrical charge through those exposed wires, but otherwise, this won’t do.

I glance between the hardened, pre-fall knight’s visage of her Nelson and the shreds of boney, spiked carapace from my Balor that litter the ground, ever ravenous even when rendered inert. Looks like I made the right choice in coming alone. With how little damage she’s taken, it would’ve been no surprise if she’d crippled my fellows too, had they joined me on this venture.

The foot of her Nelson comes down as gently as it can, pinning what’s left of my mech’s arm in such a way as to say “I’ve won” rather than “you’re dead.” She must be feeling so smug, lording over me like this. I can see that sly, mesmerizing grin on her lips even now, despite the foot or so of steel separating us. The singular “eye” behind the double v-slit mask on her Nelson’s “head” seems to stare right through me, like I’m as much a husk as my Balor is.

That’s right, take it all in. We all have to put on a show in the end.

Y’know, in a way, this is making me nostalgic for when we first met. Not that she was killing me slowly back then too. I had the fortune of standing in tandem with her in those days. It’s more that the essence of the moment is the same.

The first time I saw her was when we charged the hill to sack the death cult that’d taken Nox Alis. It’d been a rough time for my mercenary company, split between training the local rebellion, and slowly cutting a path to the capital. We were deep in the trenches, barely able to breathe with all that smoke and death threatening to drown us. Constant mortar fire kept us from advancing the line—kept us from sleeping. All we could do was take pot shots at the occasional pack of frenzied zealots rushing the field.

Then, like the truest of miracles, her Wing broke atmosphere and leveled the field—almost quite literally—in spectacular, explosive fashion.

We’d known for months that they were on their way. Their pledge was the whole reason my team agreed to secure positions ahead of time. But watching her drop unassisted from that carrier in the middle of a bombing run…

The crimson of her Albatross tabard flowing fiercely, the glint of the midday sun shining from the tip of her lance. It was as if the warmth of the light itself carried her on her descent, like dragon wings.

Awe was only half the feeling that spurred me to my feet.

Within seconds of landing she decimated the mortar bunker. A moment later, we broke cover and joined the fray. I don’t remember when I reached her position, but I know I didn’t leave her side until the day was won. We spent countless hours knees deep in the corpses of humans and chassis alike. I’m not even sure we said anything to each other. We acted on instinct alone. I’d pull them in close and she’d sheer them apart. When they’d keep their distance, I’d harry them with greywash while she lined up the perfect throw with her lance.

I think she even broke one mech over her Nelson’s knee after being disarmed, but I might’ve dreamt that later.

I hardly paid attention to the cheers over the com when the battle was finished. I was too busy watching her wrench her immaculate lance out of the broken FRAME of a cultist’s Hornet. I don’t know how it stayed intact with all the times she’d slapped a shape charge to the head of the weapon, but there it was, as steadfast as her will. My heart skipped a beat when her Nelson’s “eye” fell upon me. Still she remained silent, just looking me over as our fellows marched into the city proper to establish control.

I was at a loss for words. What do you say to someone who near singlehandedly turned the tide of a war? Is there even anything one can say?

I have learned many things since that day, but to this question, I have found no answer.

My eyes didn’t leave her until she vanished amongst her peers. It was about then that I realized I hadn’t quelled the hellfire of nanites streaming from my Balor’s collar. I think you’d been yelling at me for a couple minutes to get my shit together at that point.

I found her later that night at a bar conversing with her fellow Albatross. Though I didn’t know what she looked like, I figured it was her because I saw a few of my own mercs fawning over her. I could hardly blame them. With that curly, violet hair, a few dozen tattoos, and a tank of a body that would make even gods jealous, well… Desperate as I was to not be caught staring, I couldn’t look away.

Still, I figured she was crowded enough, and decided to walk away, satisfied knowing the face behind the armor. And yet she managed to catch my gaze just as I was about to turn and leave. Not a word left her lips, just a smile and a nod.

I must’ve turned beet red from how my mates were teasing me the next day.

I’m still awed by her even now as she holds my life by the thread of her whim. The mist here might obscure the light framing her silhouette, and her tabard may be little more than dulled scraps clinging to the distant memory of a proud warrior now reduced to little more than a thief, but that hardly matters. It was an honor to fight by her side and is an honor to lie breathless at her mercy.

Ah, that’s where the nostalgia’s coming from.

In the months following the liberation of Nox Alis, my mercs and her Albatross Wing stayed to help rebuild, and continued to train the populace so that they wouldn’t fall victim to anyone else that would abuse their trust. We had to do something to pass the time while we waited for a Union Auxiliary force to relieve us.

Often during these sessions we’d have 1-on-1 demonstrations in order to fully instill whatever lesson we were teaching that day. They were a kind of master class in turning the tide—a duel between peers. These duels went until one participant’s mech no longer functioned, and the participants were usually one teacher and one student, but sometimes they’d be between two students or two teachers. Everyone else at the session would watch from a safe distance while they duked it out to prove a point, or to undermine one.

As enthralled to the scene as some of our students could get, none of them wanted to get winded by the impact of a stray bullet, sprayed by ferrofluids in the arc of a heavy blade’s cleave, or have to run from an accidental core overload just to learn how to fight. Despite that they would be perfectly safe following the action from the saddles of the mechs they were issued.

They weren’t any fun.

As it happens, one such duel took place between me and my luminescent knight. She was lead instructor for the day and had singled me out as part of the day’s events. It was to be a lesson in facing odds bigger than you are. Quite literally, as my Balor is twice the size of her Nelson. I’d barely begun to scratch the surface of who she was. How could I turn her down? I wanted to know firsthand how she was able to tear through so many foes unassisted.

I got my wish.

It was a grueling fight. We both had to thrust our mechs into overdrive. I was barely keeping her at bay with my nanites as she constantly forced my Balor to reconstitute. In the end it wasn’t enough and she staked me to the ground with her lance. I managed to push my mech a little further and close the wound around her weapon, but once the head detonated and sheered me in twain, that was it.

Only after she finished the lecture and had sent the others on their way did she pull me from my saddle. That sly grin on her lips will forever remain burned into my memory.

That was the first time we talked, a trend that would continue as often as we could spare time for it, lasting long into the night until we could barely sustain consciousness. I think she was a bit embarrassed that first night, given how close she’d come to injuring me during a training match. I didn’t mind though. Though I had already learned plenty, I found my thirst for understanding… insatiable.

Huh, I guess it has always been like this.

There’s a hiss from the seals of her Nelson’s torso hatch. Ah, she deigns to show us her presence—Oof! Alright, she didn’t have to land so hard. My Balor’s already a smoldering ruin. It doesn’t need any more dents.

Hmm, she’s not wearing her helmet. I suppose I should remove mine too as a… professional courtesy. As I thought, there’s that grin again. Man, I really need to get a win against her. If she keeps teasing me like this I’m never gonna live it down.

Yeah? Yeah, alright. Dump to the external and I’ll pocket you away. Hey, I got this. Have I ever given you a reason to doubt?

Okay, but that was- Feh. Just let me handle this, alright?

And now she’s knockin’ at my door. Alright, alright, give me a moment. Does the release still functi—oh, I guess it does. I suppose I should grab _this_ and—

As soon as the hatch has slid out of the way she leans forward to say hello. Through the decompression steam I level my shotgun at her chest. She’s actually caught off guard for once. Is that offence that clouds her face? Did she not expect me to carry a backup weapon?

Wait, wait, shit. Does she actually think I’m going to— No, no. I would ever make this her end. No, I have other—

She shakes her head with a soft chuckle and pushes my weapon aside with a single finger on the barrel. Damn, I really thought I had more energy than that left in—_ngh!_ Ow, okay, that would explain it. Looks like she managed to pierce more than just armor. Stars, I’ve lost a lot of blood, I—wait, why is she so close now.

Oh. _Oh._ Okay. This helps.

Mm, haven’t felt this warmth in… well, long enough a time to need it. And this taste… always at the tip of my tongue, yet forever out of reach until I’m graced with moments like this. No, don’t pull away. Not yet. _Not. Yet._ She may dictate the terms everywhere else, but right here, right now? She’s mine.

_Ah—tss!_ Did… did she just put a Patch over my wound? That’s… kind of her, but wouldn’t it make more sense to—

She pats my grasping hand a couple times. Alright, _fine._ Mmph, I suppose I should let go of her. It’s too bad you can’t really ruffle the collar of a hardsuit. I’ve always thought the frazzled look suited her.

She reaches past me and digs through one of the bulkhead compartments of my mech. She pulls out a slightly-larger than fist-sized cube decorated with thin, back-lit, blue lines, and holds it between us to inspect. It seems to morph slightly at her touch, as if it’s trying to meld to her. Should’ve guessed that’s what she was after. I knew the pay for this contract was too good to not be worth something to someone else. It’s a bit surprising that it survived our confrontation unscathed, but that’s the true value of my Balor. It can take a hit.

Well, until it goes up against her, that is. I really need to put in the time to seriously figure out how to best her. Although, that’s what I’ve been doing this whole time. Has she kept outpacing me by adapting to my adaptations on the fly? Do I need to get better at thinking ahead?

I should focus.

She gives a nod and pockets the device into a pouch on her hardsuit’s waist. She steadies herself with a hand on my shoulder and meets my gaze. There’s none of that embarrassment from years prior in her eyes. Only a relentless drive burns in the mist.

I gulp audibly. She sets a knife against my throat to silence it. Her thumb rests on the flat edge of the blade like she’s ready to push it through at a moment’s notice. Yet it doesn’t budge from its position, pressing firm enough to feel its razor sharpness, but not so hard as to draw even a trickle of blood.

I’d be a bit terrified if all the heat in my body wasn’t inflaming my cheeks.

She presses her knee between my legs and tilts her knife up a little, what little sunlight that slashes through the mist glinting off the tip. My eyes don’t leave hers. We both know what’s about to happen. It’s hard to ignore the wants of the heart, but to continue like this would be untenable.

So I flip a switch to disengage the safeties on my Balor’s damaged reactor and the world goes white.

Or, at least, that’s how it looks to the corpro salvage team that inevitably comes to pick over the ruins of our battle.

Honestly, their handlers should’ve known better than to stick a tracking beacon into that package when their courier is a Horus-literate pilot with an unshackled NHP driving shotgun. Spotted the trap shortly after they handed over the cube. I mean, I get that backstabbing is kinda tradition for corpro-states, but they could’ve been less sloppy about it. It’s so… unprofessional.

I glance away from the viewscreen over to my illustrious knight, who is currently lying across four different seats of the stolen shuttle as she nurses a burn wound on her arm. She barely managed to carry us out of the blast radius in time. It was my fault for… _delaying_ the plan for as long as I did.

I tread over to her and gently press the back of my hand against her forehead. Good, no fever. She doesn’t need any more trouble on top of exhaustion. I remove my hand and leave a kiss in its place. Best not to wake her before she’s devised a suitable punishment for me.

There’s a tug on my hand as I start to walk away. I turn back and see hers laced with mine. I can feel her stare crawl up my body before meeting mine. I blush. Stars, she can be so unreasonable sometimes.

She takes her time planting her lips on where my palm meets my wrist. I can’t help but lean into the motion. Then I lean a little more and lose myself.

We indulge ourselves for hours.

Eventually she releases me—or did I release her? Hard to tell when I’m so in awe. Secretly I hope that some modicum of that feeling exists in her too. It’s frightening, working up the courage to ask.

Though is there really a need, when we’re this close?

She rolls over onto her good side and I find her a blanket to snuggle down with. I lose a little more time watching her sleep before I finally force myself to leave and let her rest.

Well, it’s going to be a while before we rendezvous with the others. Might as well check in on how things are progressing.

Hey, little buddy. Fine job you did back there pre-recording the blast into the black box like—

Yeah, I know you don’t like abandoning your casket, but it was the only way we could drop off the radar. How’re you settling in to your new housing? Yeah, the ship ain’t an overclocked Horus FRAME, but you’ll only have to endure these power constraints until we make it to a printer.

Now, how’s that decryption going? It hasn’t made any further attempts to… _integrate_ with you, has it? Good. Let me pull up an interface and I’ll see how I can—

Oh, you’re done? Well then, let’s see what we’ve got, shall we?

A footstep comes to rest at my back and something clicks. I swivel around in my chair.

Ah. I lean my elbow on the arm rest, my head resting on my palm, and smile.

Here we go again.

**Author's Note:**

> I am gay and I like mechs. [TERMINATE JUSTIFICATION]


End file.
